


God of Thursday

by clotpoleofthelord (plantainleaf)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Thor Movies, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-02 14:08:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantainleaf/pseuds/clotpoleofthelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel's causing trouble, Chuck's fallen into the chucksleep, and Castiel is just trying to figure out Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tasalmalin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tasalmalin/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY COURTNEY!
> 
> (at least a few more parts as I write them - this is my sort of fun, whenever I need a break project, so no real schedule!)

The god of Thursdays is not having a good day.

It began with his father Chuck’s long-awaited ceremony to name him the official heir of Asgard.

 _Father should have known better_ , Castiel reflects as he falls towards Earth. _He should have known Gabriel would mess things up._

And Gabriel had.

Castiel shakes his head as the wind rushes by. His brother and he had never really seen eye-to-eye on the future of Asgard, and Chuck should have realized that making Castiel his heir would cause trouble.

 _He should have distracted Gabriel,_ thinks Castiel. _He should have sent him a cake. And some women._  

But Chuck had hoped his sons would reconcile and rule together, Castiel leading and Gabriel advising. He’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, one son thrown in the dungeon and the other–

There’s a THUD that resounds for miles as Castiel hits the ground.

\-----

“Sam, come _on!_ ” Dean’s throwing equipment in a bag with one hand while he stares at his tablet with the other. “There’s something going down _right now_ and we’re gonna fucking miss it!”

Sam closes his book and sighs, pushing his hair back from his face and standing. “Dean. I told you. I’ve gotta get to class, dude.”

“ _Do you see these readings?_ ” Dean shakes the tablet in his face. “ _Do you see them._ ”

“Yes, Dean! I see them!” He looks at his watch. “Fine. I guess I can skip it. But just this once, all right?”

“Awesome.” Dean zips the bag and tosses it in the trunk. “Come on. Let’s go. Gotta beat the government dickbags over at S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Sam can’t help the grin that’s spreading across his face.

\-----

The crater starts a quarter mile from where the readings are centered. Dean’s glad he gave the Impala _modifications_ when he started this science crap– she barely shakes when they pass the lip and start on the rocky downward slope of the crater.

It’s still slow going, though; there’s debris everywhere, and Dean’s just glad this is out in the plains rather than in the middle of fuckin’ Sioux Falls or Fargo or something. It’s not like Rt. 28 gets all that much traffic, as a rule, and Res Road 24 gets even less. So far he hasn’t seen anybody hurt or even any dead animals, and he’s counting that as a win.

“What’re the coordinates again, Sam?” he calls over the sound of brush crackling under their tires.

“Uh, 48.094 by negative 95.564,” replies Sam, squinting down at the computer. “Coming up on it in about two hundred feet.”

“Awesome.” Dean glances over at the gps in Sam’s hand. “Brace yourself. We gotta take this off-road.”

The crater flattens as they get closer to the center and Dean can see a cloud of dust still drifting, obscuring whatever’s in the divot exactly in the middle. He parks the car about fifty feet out and reaches for the door.

“Dean!” Sam grabs his arm. “Seriously? Dude, we have no idea what’s out there.”

“Yeah?” Dean shakes Sam’s hand off. “And we’re not gonna find out anything from here in the car.” He opens the door and steps out, coughing in the swirling dust. “You coming?”

He can hear Sam’s sigh through the open door and he can’t help a smirk.

\-----

Castiel blinks to awareness and his first thought is that he’s been blinded, or something. Everything’s gray and swirling and bright, and he blinks a few times before he realizes it’s just dust blotting out everything. He sits up carefully, trying to get his bearings.

He’s in a crater, surrounded by dusty scrub and grasses that are looking significantly worse for wear.

He’s just climbing to his feet unsteadily when a deep voice calls, “Hold it right there!”

He turns, squinting through the dust, and sees two figures emerging from the cloudy air. He steps forward and holds out a hand stiffly. “Hello.” 

When they don’t respond he lowers his hand, slowly. “That _is_ still the customary greeting, isn’t it?”

“Uh–” the taller of the two men answers, lowering the upraised gun slightly and glancing to the other one. “Um, yeah?”

“Who are you,” interrupts the shorter man, who Castiel can see is holding a gun in one hand and a rectangle of metal with some sort of screen in the other. “And what the fuck are you doing in my anomaly?”

“ _Dean_ ,” the first man hisses, “Dude, I think he _is_ your anomaly.”

The second man-- _Dean--_ freezes. "What?"

"The readings, they-- they move when he does!"

Castiel steps forward again, holding out his hand once more. "I am Castiel, god of Thursday."

Dean snorts. "Yeah. And I'm Cleopatra, queen of the Nile."

Castiel is running out of patience. "No, you are not." He cocks his head, looking closer. "Although your eyes bear a certain resemblance to hers. Perhaps you are a descendent?"

"Shut up, Dean," the first man whispers as Dean opens his mouth. "I think-- he might be telling the truth."

"What?" Dean's attention shifts, though his gun doesn't move a millimeter from its aim at Castiel's chest. "Sam, you don't believe this weirdo, do you?"

Sam shrugs, eyes on Castiel. "I dounno, it kind of makes sense. I mean, in the lore--"

"Don't quote the fucking lore to me, I know the damn lore. But gods-- they're like angels, or Bigfoot. They're not _real._ "

With one smooth movement, faster than the human eye can perceive, Castiel steps forward and disarms both men. He takes the machine in each of their hands as well as the guns, just in case. "I beg to differ." He examines both men closely from where he's stopped, inches from Dean. His eyes linger on Dean's face, watching those bright green eyes widen under the inspection and his cheeks pink under the freckles and dust. "You are-- scientists, correct? You study natural phenomena?"

Dean nods, swallowing.

"I believe you might be able to help me."

\-----

The car ride back to the apartment they're renting in Grand Forks is possibly the most awkward three hours of Dean's life.

He's driving, of course, with Sam riding shotgun, as usual, but instead of easy silence or brotherly bickering there's a Norse god with a staring problem two feet behind them.

Every time he glances back, Castiel's eyes are firmly focused on his, and the dude doesn't look away like a normal person-- god-- whatever.

Every few minutes, Sam glances back and opens his mouth to ask a question. About half the time, he closes it and turns back to the front, vibrating with excitement and nerves and whatever-the-fuck else a Norse scholar feels when confronted with the subject of his dissertation. Dean's just hoping his brother doesn't fucking jizz himself with excitement before they get some damn answers.

The other half of the time he blurts out a question like _are the nine realms physical universes, or just different planes,_ or _did Gabriel actually impregnate a horse,_ or _do you come to Earth frequently?_

The first kind Castiel answers with a short burst of technical language that has Sam scrambling for a pen. The second kind gets him an incredulous look (and Dean really can't blame the guy; if Sam had a half-animal kid with a fuckton of legs he probably wouldn't want to talk about it with strangers either). The last question Dean cuts off with a hissed, " _dude don't hit on gods,"_ and before Sam can reply Castiel pipes up from the back with a curious, "was that a flirtation?"

Sam turns bright red and splutters a denial while Dean laughs so hard he has to pull over.

\-----


	2. Chapter 2

It’s nearly 2 in the afternoon when they make it back to Grand Forks, and once Sam decides he actually _does_ have to go to at least one class today it’s just Dean and Castiel in the Impala. They watch him walk into the building, casting longing looks back at the car and their visitor until the door shuts behind him with a thud. Then Dean puts the car in drive and heads back out to the highway.

Dean clears his throat as he turns towards the god riding shotgun. “So, uh, Castiel. Where to?” _and also_ , he thinks, _why the hell are you here?_

“You have scientific instruments, correct?”

Dean nods. “You want to head back to the lab?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t offer more information and the uncomfortable silence descends once again.

A few miles pass before Dean gives into his curiosity. “Why do you need my stuff? I mean, you’re a god, right? Can’t you just, I dunno, _magic_ the information out?”

Castiel lets out a long sigh. “No, Dean. I can’t.” He hesitates, turning to watch the road for a moment before continuing. “I’m blocked. Powerless.”

Dean’s mouth drops open. “Seriously? What the hell can do that?”

“Another god.” Castiel’s answer is short. “My father, I assume. He disapproved of my actions with regard to my brother.” 

“Your dad’s just, what, grounding you?”

“Figuratively, yes.”

“Well, is there anything you can do? How’s he doing it?” Dean turns onto 51st St and pulls into the parking lot of their apartment.

“I don’t know the answer to either question, Dean. And now that he’s cast me to Earth and fallen into the Chucksleep...”

Dean parks, nodding. “Nothing you can do for now.” He gets out and opens the trunk, pulling out his duffle and slinging it over a shoulder. “You coming?”

Castiel follows him up the path to the entryway, frowning at the automatic door and hesitating when Dean presses the UP button for the elevator.

Dean glances back. “What, not a fan of elevators?”

“Earth has changed much since I last visited.” He joins Dean in the elevator, watching closely as the he presses the button for the third floor.

“When was that?” asks Dean, curious. 

Castiel smiles, just a tiny movement of his lips and a crinkling in his eyes. “I spent three days with a man who produced honey for Ramses II. He was very wise.”

Dean whistles. “So a while, then.” He fumbles his keys from his pocket and swings the door open.

“Yes.” Castiel peers through the door as Dean enters, then follows behind him. “You live here with your brother?”

“Mmhm.” Dean tosses his keys onto a table and opens the fridge. “You hungry?”

“I–” Castiel’s eyes widen as his stomach grumbles. “It seems I am, yes.” 

“Well, uh...” Dean peers into the fridge. “I got nothing else going on. How do you feel about burgers while we get the equipment set up for whatever you need to do?”

Part of Dean is wondering why the hell he’s helping this random dude who claims to be a mythical god. But the rest of him is shoving that part aside because he’s really fucking curious about Castiel. He shakes his head and pulls out ground beef and buns. _It’s not like I have anything better to do than satisfy my curiosity. Might as well go with it._

Castiel watches closely as he seasons and shapes the patties, then tosses them on a broiler pan and puts them in the oven. He hovers a few feet away while Dean finds buns, lettuce, tomatoes, mustard and pickles, picking up bits of each as Dean prepares them and tasting them carefully.

“Dude.” Dean turns to find Castiel only inches from him. “Personal space?”

The god just stares at him, chewing a pickle, then reaches for another. 

“Really?”

“I would like to observe your food preparation.” He leans closer, poking at a half-sliced tomato and licking the juice off his finger.

Dean rolls his eyes, swallowing uncomfortably, and tries to ignore him.

Cooking with a deity continues to be– _different._ When he goes to pull the broilerpan out of the oven and can’t find his mitts, Castiel brushes past him, coat fluttering, and pulls it out with his bare hands.

Dean tries not to think about what _other_ gifts the guy might have, but it’s hard when Cas seems to be, well, _enjoying_ lunch so much. Dean actually forgets about his own burger when Castiel’s eyes drift shut around his first bite. He’s practically moaning into his burger, juice dripping on his chin and long fingers wrapped tightly around the bun. Dean swallows and hurriedly picks up his own lunch, eating mechanically. He’s glad he made extra when the first burger disappears in minutes and Cas looks up at him with hopeful eyes.

“Another?”

Dean snorts and drops a second burger on Castiel’s plate, hesitates, then adds a third. _Maybe I can make it through my first before he needs a refill._


End file.
